


Between Black and White: Crimson

by dancey94



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Murder, Murder Husbands, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-05 18:10:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12195054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancey94/pseuds/dancey94
Summary: After surviving the fall and undergoing a proper treatment, Will and Hannibal moved to a place from the past to start their future together. Till death knocked at their door...again.





	1. BLACK

**Author's Note:**

> i am happy to be a part of Murder Husbands Big Bang 2017 and collaborate with a wonderful artist beezlekn and [here is the amazing art for the story](http://beezlekn.tumblr.com/post/166208234492/murder-husbands-big-bang-2017-art-for-dancey94s%22) <3

 

The images emerged gradually – in parts, halves, pieces he couldn’t recognise. His eyes opened and closed briefly, before he fell asleep again.

The next time he woke, he kept blinking rapidly, trying to adjust to the bright light.

The surroundings did not seem familiar. He was lying in a narrow bed, covered with a duvet. The room was small, with bare colourful walls, one pair of doors on his right and a wide window on his left. There was not much more to notice. In fact, it seemed as if the room was in an abandoned house and the previous owners had left in a hurry.

_After your death or mine?_

_Whichever comes first._

Will recalled his own words. It turned out that both his and Hannibal’s deaths had come at the same time. 1:37 am. That would have been the time given in death certificates but with no bodies there was no need to pronounce them dead. Will wondered if Jack had any idea about what had actually happened. The FBI would have probably found Francis’ body already and assumed the rest. He and Hannibal had defeated the Dragon and gone on with their lives.

_Catch a fish once and it gets away... it's a lot harder to catch a second time._

Will’s mind was empty. There were very few memories of what had happened. It was all a blur, with no sharp edges, no particular shape. Even the most obvious elements of that night remained a mystery to him.

The scar on his right cheek burned. When he reached out to stroke it, he felt acute pain in his chest. His lungs. They were still aching due to the fall and the time Will had spent in the cold water of the Atlantic Ocean. A thought appeared in his mind.

Was Hannibal safe? Did he survive?

For a moment, Will was troubled by bleak visions of him being the only one saved by an approaching boat. There had been someone…

Chiyoh. Will remembered. She had helped him carry Hannibal on board. So she had saved them both.

Before he fell asleep again, Will glanced at the window. All he could see was a perfectly blue sky and a few palm trees. The angle would not let him see the ground but he could imagine he was in some exotic place.

 

His head hurt. His throat was sore. His whole body was screaming.

Will woke up quite violently, grunting and groaning, just as Chiyoh was changing the bandage on his shoulder. He looked at her with horror in his eyes, which she dismissed and proceeded with the work. His gaze fell on her slim hands, seemingly skilled at treating wounded animals. It wasn’t accurate to call Chiyoh his and Hannibal’s guardian angel but she had done a tremendous job watching over them.

Will calmed down and let Chiyoh take care of him. He was lying still, blinking slowly, wondering what he would see when he finally left the bed.

“Hannibal is alive,” Will heard the answer before he managed to ask. It was the news he was partly afraid to receive but also one that actually made him relax.

So, they both survived. He did not have to face the consequences of what he’d done alone. At least that was what he hoped for. He hoped that it was him and Hannibal now, together against the world. He hoped Hannibal would have him by his side, especially after he had confessed that he loved the prospect of joining the dark side and proved it by being a willing participant in Dolarhyde’s murder.

“Where is he?”

“He’s still recovering. In the room next door,” Chiyoh explained while finishing her work.

Will nodded and waited until his private nurse left the room. Only then did he try to get up from the bed. His eyes were still having difficulties with adjusting to the brightness that pervaded the space. He managed to take the few steps that led to the window and gasped when he saw the vast field with palm trees, bushes and high grass, greener than anything he’d ever seen.

He was a long way off from home.

It was only after a while that he smelt the sweet scent of nature and some flowers that were growing right under the window. He was tempted to leave the house and have a long walk but the pain in his chest was of a different opinion.

As he walked out of the room, he entered a larger one, where Chiyoh was cutting some herbs on a wooden board, silently focused on the precise movements of her wrists. Will rubbed his shoulder, subtly giving a hint as to why he was there, to which Chiyoh pointed at a drawer with the knife she was holding and then, resumed chopping the herbs.

Will found some painkillers and swallowed two tablets at once. He thought he was being sneaky when he tried to hide a small plastic bottle in his palm, for later.

“Can I see him?”

“He’s asleep,” Chiyoh replied but the statement didn’t sound like a warning; it wasn’t supposed to prevent Will from visiting Hannibal.

Will nodded in acknowledgement and entered the room next to his own. The first thing that hit him was the smell – the space was filled with sweet and fresh scent of fresh flowers and fruit. Chiyoh cared for Hannibal and did everything to please him, even with him unconscious and unable to appreciate her efforts.

Then, a bed similar to his caught Will’s eye. It was narrow and a bit too small for a man like Hannibal. The man lying in it was pale, his breath barely audible. For a moment, Will’s muscles refused to cooperate, forcing him to stay still. He stared at Hannibal as if the man in bed was dead and ready to be buried.

Tears formed in Will’s eyes when he finally felt able to move. He sat in a chair by the bed, presumably used by Chiyoh when she would treat Hannibal’s wounds. At first, Will fought the urge to lean forward and listen closely to Hannibal’s heartbeat. But the silence made the illusion even more real and Will had to ascertain that Hannibal _was_ alive.

He gulped as he reached for Lecter’s hand and tried to locate the right spot on the man’s wrist. He felt the blood being pumped slowly. The sigh of relief was quite loud but it didn’t wake Hannibal; the man was like a log, which Will found strange. The old Hannibal had been constantly on standby, ready to act whenever necessary.

Will decided to push his luck and shifted his fingers so that he was holding Hannibal’s hand in his own. He began stroking the skin gently, reminding himself that they both survived.

“I…”

There were so many things he wanted to say, especially with Hannibal not hearing them. Yet, he found it impossible to speak. All the words vanished from his mind when he was looking at the vulnerable man in front of him. He didn’t know where to begin. So he didn’t.

After a few minutes, Will heard the front door being open. That was his cue to spill everything that he was too afraid to say within Chiyoh’s earshot. Still, Will only caressed the top of Hannibal’s hand and silently prayed to whatever god or goddess who was listening to let them have as much time as they were given.

They had died after the horrible fall from the cliff to the ocean. Every moment since was borrowed.

 

“Where are we, anyway?” Will asked when he stepped out of the house.

Chiyoh was kneeling on the ground, picking up some herbs. She didn’t turn to look at Will when she heard his question.

“Cuba,” she replied with little enthusiasm.

Will looked around the house. There seemed to be no neighbourhood. There were only trees and bushes and high grass. The view was stunning – exotic, therefore refreshing. Will was amazed how Chiyoh had managed to organise their getaway and a hideout in such a short time. Unless she had it all planned before Will even got the idea of getting Hannibal out of the facility.

“You’re safe here. You can leave whenever you feel ready,” she added.

“Leave? Where to? They’ll be looking for us everywhere he’d want to go.” That meant mainly Italy and France. Will wondered if perhaps they should just settle there, comfortably, with Chiyoh.

“This is a conversation between you and him. But I will say there is a place he may wish to go. And I will not follow.”

Will suspected what the place was and he couldn’t say he wasn’t tempted. Although the prospect of eternal summer appeared friendly to him, there was no way they were going to stay on Cuba for the rest of their lives. Perhaps for another month or so.

“So is this your final step? Can you be happy here?”

“I’ll be as happy here as anywhere else,” Chiyoh replied and turned to Will. It was at that moment that he noticed her slight tan. He wondered how long she’d been living in that little house.

“Here you are alone.”

“But not enslaved.”

Will nodded. He hoped she’d be truly happy with her choice.

“Perhaps, I’ll pay you a visit one day. On my way to my ancestors’ grave.”


	2. GRAY

Will stood by the fence and watched Hannibal retrieve a key to the house. The view seemed oddly domestic and anticlimactic. They were about to start a new life – he and a cannibalistic serial killer whom the world called a monster for the lack of a better term. There they were, welcoming a new life in a part of Lecter’s past. To Will, it felt as if they truly stopped running.

It was a small house, located around ten miles away from Hannibal’s family manor. It required renovation and generally lots of work. The yard was huge, with no neighbours for miles around them. That was the beauty of it all – they were about to settle far from everyone and everything, which Will found particularly encouraging. And it was a perfect place for any unusual activities, especially those that would attract attention of the law enforcement.

There was a garage and a small shed for the wood. They would need it, Will was certain of it. Winters in Lithuania were something new to him but he suspected they looked different than in the States. He had already had a taste of the microclimate, given that the autumn was approaching and he had to put on a heavy warm coat. The fact that they just left Cuba, which was hot and humid, did not help at all.

There were plenty of trees around the house. A particular one caught Will’s attention as he realised he had never seen this kind of plant. It had high thin branches and some of its flowers were still on the ground beneath it, after they had fallen down probably a few weeks before. The tree seemed more like a bush and Will regretted it was the only one of the kind in the whole yard. He could only imagine its sweet scent and hope that he would be able to see it bloom in the spring.

“Will?”

Hannibal’s voice brought him back to reality. The door was open and Will could already catch a glimpse of an empty hallway. He was glad Hannibal did not give him a tour; he’d rather explore the place by himself. It was naïve and egoistic but Will had a vision of how the interior could look like. There were items he considered necessary for his existence and then, some that he’d seen in catalogues and imagined would look great in the house. _Their_ new house.

Obviously, Will was no interior designer and knew that sooner or later he would leave the task for Hannibal to deal with. He did not care all that much about the furniture or the colour of the flowers on the table.

When he entered the kitchen, it turned out that it may have been only the hallway that was undecorated. The fridge, the stove and the sink were already there, along with some cabinets and a dining table with four chairs. Four chairs. Must have come in a set. Otherwise, why would Hannibal care for more than two chairs?

“There are few things here that are completely new. The previous owners left it as it was,” Hannibal explained, following Will’s footsteps.

“Did you…?”

“No.”

Will nodded at the short but relieving answer. He didn’t have to know the whole story. For all he knew, Hannibal might have just bought the house under a fake alias.

The living room was spacious, with a fireplace, one sofa and a long chest of drawers by the wall. Will liked the minimalistic touch and smiled at the rosy pink curtains in the windows.

His next stop was in the bathroom, which was quite small, with just enough room for a toilet and a sink. Will supposed the shower would be in the second bathroom upstairs.

The stairs were narrow and steep. They led to a passage with doors on both sides. As Will opened the first door, he found himself in a spacious bathroom with both a bath and a shower. The walls were white and tiled. So was the floor.

The next room was a bedroom, with a large bed and a wardrobe. There was not much more, to be honest, besides a mirror standing by the wall and another chest of drawers. Will wondered if the next door revealed another bedroom.

The place Chiyoh had kept them in offered comfort and privacy of one’s own room. Here, Will felt slightly uneasy and, in a way, at Lecter’s mercy. He thought he should be grateful for whatever the man could give him.

The way in which Will’s wrinkles disappeared was barely noticeable. The narrow single bed in the other room resembled the one Will had been sleeping in on Cuba. The wall across the only window was covered with a stylish flowery wallpaper, while the rest were pained a similar shade of pink as the curtains in the living room.

The décor wasn’t something Hannibal would have chosen willingly but his resources were limited. Will didn’t complain.

“You can choose whichever you like more,” Hannibal offered and disappeared. Will heard the steps fade away and, then, the front door being open and closed.

For a brief moment, Will indulged in a vision of Hannibal sleeping like a cat in a too small bed with pink walls surrounding him. He found it strangely fitting but he wouldn’t have dared to challenge Hannibal like that. Lecter could lose his freedom, his ability to throw piercing remarks, but the only thing he would have never agreed to be taken away from him was his dignity.

The shrine of pink was Will’s, then.

He looked through the window which allowed the view of the yard. Similarly to their place on Cuba, their new house seemed isolated. There were no neighbours for miles; Will couldn’t spot any building in their proximity. He thought it possible that the closest residence was Lecter’s manor. Immediately, he imagined Hannibal taking long lonely walks during the night to visit his family home.

Will looked as Hannibal entered the shed and then reappeared with a bucket full of wood. The evening was approaching and they had to burn anything they could find to provide some warmth and hot water in the house. At least until they change the heating system.

Will lay down on the bed, exhausted after a long flight with two stops on the way. He stared at the flowers on the wallpaper and began daydreaming of his future with Hannibal.

The winter would be the hardest to survive, especially given the harsh climate – with lots of snow and freezing cold. Still, it wouldn’t be much different from where he and Molly had lived. He got used to snow and ice-covered lakes. The menial chores he’d done helped him get through the days.

Before he knew it, his eyes closed and his mind drifted away to the images of the trees in bloom.


	3. CRIMSON

The days before November 21st seemed like the days of preparation. Will focused on the little things – the way his scars faded and how the leaves fell from the trees, the way the ground seemed to deteriorate and rot before snow would take over. Hannibal, on the other hand, seemed to cherish this new domestic aspect of his relationship with Will. He would do the laundry with a content smile on his face, and he would do the dishes while glancing from time to time at Will, who lay in the living room with a book in his hand. Those little things were inevitably leading to something bigger and Will was aware of that.

 

Early in November, Hannibal took Will to the nearest town for shopping. There were still some lanterns and candles and even pumpkins left on the market but Christmas ornaments were getting more and more popular every day. Chocolate Santas, Christmas trees, colourful baubles and tinsels – they all filled every window display and every corner of every street. Will could not name the feeling inside him but the one the closest to it was called freedom.

As he stood in front of a shop, in the middle of the pavement, waiting for Hannibal to buy whatever it was he wanted to buy, he looked around and saw all the people marching, passing him, smiling and chatting, appearing generally busy, while Will breathed in and enjoyed the moment. The town wasn’t big and there were not many people on the streets but seeing them all rushing somewhere and trying desperately to make it seemed fun to Will.

Until one man bumped into Will and, without as much as uttering a word of apology (which Will would have not understood anyway and had no way to respond to but nod in acknowledgement), moved on. It was a minor hit but in Will’s right shoulder, which made the wound there scream with pain, even though it healed long ago. As Will rubbed the shoulder, he raised his head to have a look at the man who passed him. It was a tall, slim figure in dark clothes, in no way standing out in the crowd; he could disappear quickly. Something in Will made him want to follow the man. It was a former detective’s instinct that he could not get rid of. Then, as the man faded, absorbed by the crowd and the grayness of the day, Will smiled to himself for having such a sensitive alert.

“Everything alright?”

Will turned to see Hannibal carrying shopping bags and watching him purposefully. He knew. They both knew. Will had just seen something or felt something that made him uneasy. It was the good old hunch, based on no reason but something deep inside, something inexplicable.

“Yes, Hannibal,” Will whispered when he stepped closer to the man. The use of the real name was supposed to emphasise that even though it was not true, even though they both knew, Will wanted Hannibal to leave it at that.

 

Two weeks later, Will decided to visit the Lecter manor. Hannibal was fighting the flu and probably for the first time in his adult life he was lying in bed, drinking hot tea with lemon and genuinely resting. When Will was certain Hannibal was asleep, he put on a heavy coat, put the most necessary items in a bag, and set off on a bike.

It took him an hour to get there, with the snow and the not yet rotten leaves under, sticking to the tyres. Even before Will crossed an invisible border of the mansion, he knew something was off. Then, he spotted a car hidden behind a few trees near the gate which was forcefully opened. Someone had broken into the mansion.

Will left his bike in the bushes by the entrance and proceeded on foot. That reminded him of the last time he was there. The memories overlapped the present as Will followed a path towards the building. Before he reached the door, he heard a noise coming from the inside. Someone had obviously broken in and was now plundering the mansion.

Will was not sure if he should confront the person, or people, especially since he was trespassing himself. There was no way of explaining why he was there and why it was alright for him to visit. Another option was simply running away and returning another time. The intruder was definitely not a homeless person looking for a shelter that he may occupy, there was no danger of him staying there. Still, someone was investigating. Someone was examining the place and Will was painfully aware of all the things that were simply waiting to be discovered.

There was only one problem with his initial plan of confrontation – he didn’t speak the language. Even if he wanted to explain that he was a guardian of the property or that he was just a tourist, there exited a possibility that the person would not understand. And what if that person was Jack? What if he figured out what Will had figured out several years back? Will couldn’t risk their freedom like that. Leaving was the only option.

But he wouldn’t leave without at least having as much as a glance of the person. He just had to see him, to know him. Even the most blurred fragment would allow him to make up a story as to who the intruder was and what he wanted. So Will stayed. He hid in some bushes below a window and waited.

The noise continued. The intruder was obviously not trying to be sneaky and most probably had not expected anyone else to appear on the property. The steps faded in and out as the person kept walking from one room to another, all over the building. Will wondered what might have been the purpose of that thorough ransacking. It would have been a great coincidence if someone randomly picked that mansion. Sure, it was abandoned and old and must have contained mysteries and antiques. Still, it was a Lecter manor. And Lecter was a name known worldwide. The intrusion was not random.

Will waited another quarter before he heard the person approaching the door. The steps and the way the person breathed indicated it was a man, definitely. Then, Will saw a glimpse of the man’s jacket, the back of his head. But it was only after the man walked away a few meters that Will realised it was the man who bumped into him on that street. The way he moved and how he placed one foot in front of the other was somewhat significant and Will was certain it was him. He didn’t want to believe it; thought he was just making it up because it was this fantastic improbable coincidence, but it _was_ truly the man.

Will watched him for a moment until, suddenly, the man turned. The heart in Will’s chest skipped a beat. The eyes of the tall intruder were directed straight at the house and the place where Will was hiding. It appeared as if the air had become colder, sharper. The next thing Will noticed was a wide, somewhat sinister smile on the man’s face, visible even from the distance. The scene froze the blood in Will’s veins. Then, nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened, the man turned again and headed for the gate. Will stayed in the bush until he heard the engine of the car start and saw the lights fade as the man drove off.

 

“Are you absolutely certain he saw you?” Hannibal asked while sipping hot tea. He was still recovering and the news seemed to speed up the process. Lecter was aware and assessing the danger already, even with only a vague explanation as to why the man from the street, the intruder, might have been a threat to the cosy life he was leading with Will, finally.

In the other end of the room, Will was rubbing his face and trying to keep calm. It was actually more of a performance and an exaggeration really, because, in fact, Will felt truly at peace deep inside. He was not worried about the man. If the intruder was a bounty hunter, he would have already apprehended Will or follow him to his and Hannibal’s little house. But the man had simply left.

“I thought he did. He was looking in my direction. And then, he smiled. It was a smug, proud smile of someone who seemed to have found something he had been looking for.”

Hannibal stayed silent.

“Could he have found something there? Something I don’t know about?”

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed, his irises barely there, merely accenting the natural colour so often used to retain the identity of a soft-natured psychiatrist. His pupils were blown, giving away all the intensity of the situation.

“No.”

The word was spoken in a way Will had heard so many times before he had managed to get used to it. It was somewhere along the lines of a feigned offence at being found guilty of something Hannibal had definitely done. Under different circumstances, Will would have found that feline behaviour cute. But they were facing a major problem with someone so close to them. It was a matter of time now before that person or police would apprehend them. Unless they take the matter into their own hands.

“He’s not after a confrontation. That means he’s alone. And the police has not yet banged on our doors.”

“Perhaps he is just a treasure hunter. The manor dates back to the medieval era, who knows, maybe even earlier.”

“He took me for his own kind? When he smiled?”

“It’s possible.”

Will looked away, trying to gather up everything he knew, suspected and felt. He was aware that Hannibal would understand if he explained the nature of his hunch. That was all it was – just a hunch – but Will was good at it, he knew when he was right, he knew when a lead was not yet cold and when he chased a real demon. Still, seeing Hannibal not fully recovered and struggling with least demanding tasks, he decided not to push it.

“We should get a tree soon,” Hannibal remarked, distracting Will from his thoughts.

 

The next week, Hannibal felt a lot better. So much so, that he drove deep into the forest a few miles away from the house, taking Will along with him. He packed a few axes he managed to find in a shed and one he’d bought in town some time before. He didn’t expect anything more to be necessary since they only needed a small tree that could be placed in the living room and that would be able to support a few baubles.

Will kept looking around while Hannibal drove and when he stopped the car, a perfect tree was less than twenty meters away. The men grabbed the axes and started walking. Will’s boots dove deep into the snow with every step; Hannibal was right behind him. Then, in the utter silence, disrupted only by the wind or branches being broken under their feet, Will heard someone’s laboured breath. He stopped immediately, signalling to Hannibal that something was wrong. Lecter looked around, searching for anything he could find odd in the scenery. Most trees were rather thin, with narrow trunks behind which no one could hide. Hannibal nodded to Will, acknowledging he heard something, too.

The men squatted with their backs against each other. That way they could see literally all four corners of the earth, much like Janus. Their car was a few meters away; they had axes in each hand. Will saw two possibilities – they could either drive back home or face whatever or whoever was there. He tapped Hannibal’s shoulder and stood up. Lecter followed suit.

It took them a few steps farther away from the car before they heard footsteps approaching.

“I knew it was you,” a voice diffused in the vast forest. Will turned in its direction and saw the man whose image had been haunting him. “At some point you were more famous than Hannibal the Cannibal.”

“Who are you?” Lecter asked with a note of amusement. There were two of them and the man was most likely alone.

“What do you want?” Will added, ready to attack.

“Honestly, it’s a pleasure to meet you both,” the man announced with a bow. As he did, Will spotted dirt and some blood on his clothes.

“You realise, then, that you may be dead in a blink of an eye?” Hannibal posed another question, growing impatient.

“Oh, yes. My skin is nowhere as thick as the Dragon’s. But, perhaps, we could haggle.”

“It depends on what you have to offer,” Lecter pretended to be interested in the little game but, truly, he was already mentally browsing the recipes to use for dinner.

“I’m aware that it’s your homeland and any attempts at overtaking it may appear as rude. No one should even try to exceed you, definitely not here,” the man began as if it were a tale. His accent was impeccable and it made Will wonder if he was, indeed, from Lithuania.

Hannibal, on the other hand, was bored and offended that the man perceived him as a manufacturer of death. That was not the point. There was no end goal, no counting, no record to beat. The way the man treated what he was doing was crude, vulgar.

“I intend to expand my unusual line of business, though. Soon. So as long as nothing happens to me till I leave, you can feel safe. When I leave, I’ll leave for good and you may only hear about me in the news. Shadow, I believe, is what they’re going to call me. All I’m asking is stay here and stay out of my way.”

“How does it sound to you, Will?”

“Convenient.”

Hannibal nodded. It was their cue. The man was alone and dangerous, ready to expose them if they stood in his way. He didn’t want to fight, not with them; he was certain to lose.

“We only came here for a tree,” Lecter announced with a polite smile, buying them both some time to figure out if the man carried a gun.

“You should probably look somewhere else.”

Will’s pupils dilated at the implication behind the words. His fist clenched around the axe, his knuckles turned white. There was nothing but silence surrounding them.

Only one problem remained – the distance between them and the man. There was no opportunity for the element of surprise; they could not jump on him and tear him to shreds.

Hannibal seemed to be in perfect synch with Will’s mind and realised that if the man carried a gun, there could be new wounds to treat.

“Well, then, what if we reject your offer?”

“It would be unadvisable.”

Suddenly, Will realised something. He had analysed the way the man moved, how he acted and how he talked. There was something more than a pathological calmness involved – the man had been trained. He had been taught every single detail of the behaviour he was presenting.

A soldier or a cop.

Without any notice, almost recklessly, Will jumped forward, after yelling “duck!”, and, when the man was distracted, drove an axe into the man’s left calf, hoping Hannibal squatted in time. A cop in danger would shoot in the shoulder, then knee. A cop who was a serial killer would shoot right in the head or a heart.

There was a shot, then another, and then silence again.

Will felt blood spatter on his face – his mouth and cheeks – and on his hair and ears. Drops of blood tinted the snow.

Looking up, Will expected a gun being pointed at him but what he saw were remains of the man’s head. Blood trickled down what was left of his neck. The body faltered and collapsed. Will jumped back.

The man was dead. Just like that. Two bullets in the head and he simply fell back on the ground.

Will looked at Hannibal slightly taken aback, his heart slowing down. Lecter was squatting. The two axes were lying in the snow on the ground beside him. He was holding an old revolver.

“Where did you get this?”

“In the town, some time ago. For protection.”

“Well, it came in handy.”

Will tried to listen to any sounds, any signs of someone still being alive in that forest. He took a few steps behind the dead man’s body and followed the footprints the man had left in the snow. He walked, while Hannibal examined the yet warm corpse in an attempt to find any documents.

The prints ended abruptly as if the man had materialised out of thin air. There was no car nearby.

Will leant forward and brushed away some snow until he got hold of a small handle. He pulled, revealing a ladder resembling a narrow set of stairs leading down. Upon turning to check on Hannibal, he realised his face was still wearing signs of violence. He could smell the metallic taste the blood would leave if he licked his lips.

“He was a policeman,” Hannibal announced as he approached Will. “Single, no family.”

“With a heavy record if we’re to believe any word he said.”

“Should we go down there?” Hannibal pointed at the hole in the ground and the narrow ladder. Still, no sound had yet broken the silence. There was no sound coming from down below.

“Do you want to lead the way?”

With no further discussion, Hannibal turned, grabbed the ladder on both sides and made a few hesitant steps down. Complete darkness would have welcomed him if not for the daylight coming from above, where Will kept the trapdoor open. After a few more steps Hannibal’s feet touched the ground.

“Should I join you?” Will asked. He looked around again, trying to spot a car or any other means of transport. The man had to move somehow.

“No. Stay where you are. Do you have a flashlight?”

“Didn’t think I’d need one,” Will remarked, his voice hoarse. He rubbed his palms together as the cold started seriously bother him. “There should be one on the car.”

“That’s quite alright,” Hannibal said as he felt the cold stone wall. The space was only so wide that when he stood in the middle and spread his arms, he could feel the walls on both sides. The space ahead of him, though, was a different story altogether. The darkness seemed to have no end. “It’s a tunnel.”

Will thought about the words and the amazing discovery they’d just made. Still, following the tunnel would require some sort of preparation, taking the flashlights at the very least. Hiding the fresh body would also be advisable.

“Let’s bury the cop,” Will proposed. “We can check out where the tunnel leads later.”

“I know exactly where it leads,” Hannibal said and started withdrawing. He began climbing the ladder.

After his words, Will knew where the tunnel led as well.

 “Let’s take care of the body,” Hannibal took a moment to reappear above the ground.

They had to be as careful as ever. Any trace, anyone else involved, any tiniest possibility of danger and they were done. Will turned to look at the dead man lying in the snow. He was about to make the first step when he felt Hannibal’s hand grab his forearm.

“Wait.”

Will noticed the way Hannibal eyed the traces of blood on his face. He remembered how he was marked. The murder wasn’t intimate but it was necessary and Will didn’t mind the use of the gun. He couldn’t afford to be bothered.

Hannibal reached inside his pocket and took out a folded white handkerchief.

“Before it dries,” he explained and started gently wiping Will’s cheeks. Some blood would still remain on the clothes but that could be easily dealt with. However, they had to return home and if anyone saw Will’s blood-stained face, they wouldn’t  hesitate to inform the police.

Most of the blood came off easily but what Will noticed was that Hannibal didn’t even try to wipe the drops that had fallen on the lips. He suspected there was a reason for that and was not wrong.

He wasn’t surprised when Hannibal folded the handkerchief and put it back in his pocket. Neat, elegant as always and as if nothing morbid was involved. Then, Hannibal’s fingers returned to caress Will’s face, a gesture disguised as an additional check if nothing was out of order. It was the small fact that his eyes remained on Will’s mouth while doing so that compelled Will to prepare for what came next.

Hannibal’s thumb swiped the lower lip, purposefully smudging the blood there.

“You’re beautiful,” Hannibal said upon locking gaze with Will, who instantly saw himself with all the scars on his body: the cut on the forehead, on his right cheek, the bullet hole in his left shoulder, the knife hole in his right collarbone, the smile on his stomach. All signs of how messed up his life was. All signs of struggle and survival.

Warm breath upon his lips was what drew him out of his thoughts. It was inevitable. After the first weeks of acquaintance, the months of seduction and luring, the years of separation and finally the weeks of resumed circling each other, they had to acknowledge that the intensity of their relationship could only have gone so far without being consummated.

Hannibal was the one to make the first move but it was Will who pushed it. It was Will who leant closer and eventually brought their faces together. He was the one to press lips against lips and wait for the result.

They closed their eyes at the same time, focusing solely on the touch.

Will could feel how the blood from his lips was impressed on Hannibal’s and how it eased the sliding motion. They shared bodily fluid which was not even theirs in the first place but it was a pact they formed and confirmed. They relished what they had done and what they were capable of. It was sheer madness shared by two.


	4. IVORY

Will’s head hit the wall. Or, more accurately, it pressed against the hand in his hair. Hannibal’s fingers wove into the soft strands and the man’s breath cooled Will’s skin. Graham’s eyes were closed, his breathing laboured and shallow, although nothing had happened, not yet. Seemingly.

In fact, the beast had been released. Hannibal had lost his composure and was now seconds away from devouring the man before him. The lip lock was inevitable but so was the feeling that Hannibal would burst, fall apart into pieces. There was still blood on their lips, the fact which they cherished – they smiled, they crushed their mouths together, they breathed.

Touch had always been something Will avoided. It was too intimate, crossing a particular boundary he’d rather not cross. He was very careful about keeping a safe distance from people. It was only after the incident with Chilton that changed his perspective and brought awareness to his behaviour. He started using occasional small touches to evoke certain reactions in Hannibal and enjoyed the affectionate gesture between them, even if it was only a reassuring pat on the shoulder or a hand being rubbed after chopping wood. And then, of course, there was the issue of their first kiss.

Perhaps, Will hadn’t anticipated what it would bring.  
Perhaps, he miscalculated.

Or maybe, most probably, he had deliberately done everything that led to this very moment – to him being pressed against the wall and held like prey. Had it not been the man Hannibal shot, it would have been someone else. But that breaking point, the point of no return would have happened sooner or later and it surely would have involved blood.

Hannibal’s breath was ghosting upon Will’s lips, the hand was still tightly woven into his hair. They seemed to be still circling each other, sniffing and recognising the boundaries between them. Lecter moved his hands, which, like snakes winding around a tree, swiftly changed their position. They were roaming the vast surface of Will’s chest. The hands which had held a gun mere hours before, the hands which so erotically, so skilfully treated flesh.

The men remained fully clothed, which, frankly, turned Hannibal on even more. He nudged Will’s knees with his own, forcing the man to spread his legs. Their hips were pressing against each other, creating pleasant friction. But it didn’t last long. Will was aware that the act required surrender on both sides; still, he didn’t quite imagine that Hannibal would be the first to give up his power.

Sparing any warning or asking permission, Lecter knelt in front of Will, all the while looking him in the eyes. It was Will’s hand now that wandered and wove into Hannibal’s hair. His fingers were stroking gently the strands, while he was glancing down at the man.

“Get up.”

Hannibal was looking up straight into Will’s eyes, anticipating that command, anticipating any command. Will’s touch on his skull sent shivers down his spine and indicated that he was not reluctant.

“How many people have you had kneel before you?”

Will closed his eyes. It was never that easy, it was never that simple. In the cases he could think of, he was either lying on a bed or sitting in a chair. Now, he was standing, with his back against the wall, facing the door – there was still an opportunity to escape.

In a brief moment of oblivion, Will was on the verge of laughing. The image before his eyes was his ex-psychiatrist, who had been always composed and impeccably dressed, and who was now kneeling on the floor, creasing the fabric of his trousers. They were no longer a part of a tailored suit, only a pair of simple trousers. The image was less than perfect, yet, in a wholly new sense, it was so much more than that. And then, there was the blood smudged on his lips which would inevitably leave marks on Will.

“Two. Never…”

“A man?”

That, too. Lecter seemed to understand. He was still looking into Will’s uncertain yet desperate eyes, while his right hand moved up Will’s left leg. They were still fully clothed, only anticipating the state of undress.

“Men like to think kneeling is an act of submission,” Hannibal said and unbuttoned Will’s trousers. The zipper seemed to be undoing itself.

“You don’t strike me as someone willing to give up control easily.”

Hannibal smiled. It was barely there, a ghost of a past smile, but it was the terrifying sign that nothing with Lecter was ever easy. It was not easy to prevent the gasp when Hannibal forcefully pushed down Will’s pants along with the underwear. It was even less easy to stop the blood rushing to Will’s cock when Hannibal kissed it. Finally, it was impossible to refrain from moaning when the sweet wet heat of Hannibal’s mouth took the whole of Will’s cock hostage.

It lasted so briefly that Will didn’t even manage to enjoy it properly before Hannibal stood up, pulling the hem of Will’s sweater. It was an inconvenient and imbalanced situation, with one of them completely naked and the other almost ready to throw a dinner party. Will suspected it was, in a way, a dinner party for Hannibal. He’d had the first taste. It was only a matter of time when the first bite would take place. And then, the consummation of everything that was served.

“Lie down for me,” Hannibal commanded in such a soft and quiet voice, it may have just as well been an attempt at hypnotizing Will.

“What about you?”

The question was answered when Hannibal took off his sweater and approached a chest of drawers standing by the window. Swiftly, he opened the first drawer and, after digging something out, he returned to bed, where Will was half-lying and trembling in anticipation. Hannibal put the items he’d retrieved at the edge of the bed. He undid his pants while looking at Will and could only pray not to get there too fast.

Will licked his lips as he sat up and placed his hands on Hannibal’s hips. He’d offer the same treatment he’d got: he pulled the pants along with the underwear down and it seemed that in a moment they would finally be equally undressed, equally exposed. When it happened, Hannibal grabbed both of Will’s wrists and leant forward, pushing the man on the bed. It was happening in an odd pace, with everything taking place either too early or too late, too quickly and dragging unbearably.

They were about to dive into something almost as intimate and as intense as a murder. So far, Hannibal had mostly teased: he caressed and promised and nudged. With Will underneath him, he decided to act more boldly, although he knew it would require plenty of self-control. After many years of circling each other, missing each other, seducing each other and finally courting each other, they were doomed and destined to explode on the earliest opportunity.

“Do you…” Hannibal began with a trembling and harsh voice.

“Do me.”

Hannibal chuckled softly at the words. After such encouragement, he decided to throw caution to the wind and let himself be engaged in the frenzy. He was pulled by Will and kissed harshly before he reached for the bottle of lube. There was no shame and little secrecy about the fact that Hannibal had bought the supplies they needed. Will supposed it was convenient and only a sign that the man had anticipated the act and prepared for it.

Soon, gentle warm touch teased Will’s entrance. Hannibal caressed the opening with one hand, covered in lube, and supported Will’s head with the other. They kissed, with Will being the one in charge. Whatever was happening down below, he was going to torment Hannibal from the waist up. Both of his hands were free so he could shift between scratching Hannibal’s back, neck and chest. There was passion but little recklessness or abandonment. All Will’s movements and actions were deliberate.

When the first finger found its way inside Will’s body, both men knew there was no way back now. They would be one in a blink of an eye, with no one stopping them, finally. They were going to be conjoined – body and soul.

Will gasped and shook his head, refusing to kiss Hannibal for a while in order to focus all his energy and senses on that one finger penetrating him. He was not ashamed to admit that it was, indeed, his very first time with a man and he could not imagine it being with a man less intense than Hannibal. With him, Will was certain to be treated fairly and given the pleasure no one could possibly offer.

When the second finger joined, Will winced, which made Hannibal withdraw and apply more lube. It helped, although starting again with one finger and only then adding the second one appeared slightly slow and time-consuming to Will. He was growing impatient but believed Hannibal had more experience and genuinely knew what he was doing. Expertly, Lecter’s tender touch continued preparing Will for the final act.

It ended at two fingers but lasted a while. Eventually, Hannibal withdrew and proceeded to kiss Will’s neck. Their cheeks were heated, bodies on fire and melting into one. It appeared almost as if they were fluid – two waves overlapping each other.

The veins in Will’s neck resembled a net spreading over his throat threatening to choke him. His nipples were circled by Hannibal’s skilful tongue, wetted and bitten. For a brief moment, the passion dwindled. There was no hesitation in the movements but something akin to astonishment. Will assumed it was simply beyond Hannibal’s ability to grasp what was happening. And what was, indeed, happening, was that they were about to sex – two healthy men making perfectly natural love to each other and, apparently, it was nothing new to Hannibal, and Will, via his empathic skills, was certain to easily catch on.

Another kiss on the neck and Hannibal’s eyes returned to Will’s.

It was a wordless process. Hannibal took hold of his erect member and, blindly, directed it towards Will’s entrance. The two fingers had been merely an appetizer and a small taste of what was coming. The men kept their eyes locked while Hannibal slowly pushed inside Will. It took forever before Will finally closed his eyes and bent back his neck. The need to flee and at the same time impale himself further on Hannibal’s cock appeared in his brain.

Then, it stopped completely.

Will looked up at Hannibal, who had also closed his eyes. It must have been a tremendous experience for him to be able to have Will’s body and manipulate it like he had Will’s mind. He was inside Will till the very end; their pelvises touched. There were no more barriers between them.

Will calmed himself and controlled his breathing, waiting for any discomfort to pass.

“Move,” he whispered and clutched onto Hannibal’s strong shoulders.

A brief moment passed before Hannibal moved his hips. He did not start to pull out, not yet, but simply offered Will another chance to adjust to the feeling of fullness. After all, a part of his flesh, like an intruder, invaded and occupied a part of Will.

There was a long moan, as Will threw his head to one side, then to the other. Hannibal chuckled and grabbed Will’s right hand, then kissed the wrist.

“Are you going to writhe all night long?”

“Only until I can’t force my muscles anymore. Move.”

Hannibal smiled, full of genuine joy, and started pulling out of Will. He had not yet withdrawn fully, when, with a snap of his hips, he pushed into Will again. It was a short thrust, made to let Will know that the night was just beginning and the teasing was not over yet. Then, Hannibal pushed further, rolled his hips and manoeuvred his lower body until he felt a spark in Will. It was like a lightning going through Will’s spine. Will’s eyes were wide open, his breath became shallower. Strangely, Will appeared more frightened than happy. Now that Hannibal had found the spot, he had all control over Will’s body and could make him suffer or beg or deny him the pleasure when he needed it.

With a knowing smile, Hannibal pulled out completely. He kissed Will, pouring more fire into the man’s heart, and gently entered him using the distraction.

“I’ve always imagined you to be a generous lover. What’s with the slow pace?” Will asked playfully after breaking the kiss. He didn’t want their first time to be over quickly but Hannibal was torturing him with all the kissing and touching and teasing.

“Nothing more than making sure your experience is pleasant.”

“Wouldn’t want to hurt me?”

“Not like that.”

After a moment of consideration, Will spoke.

“Sex has always been easier for me than your average socialising. Don’t change that.”

“I didn’t intend to.”

With that, Hannibal proceeded to push inside Will again, neither faster nor with more force. He kept the gentle pace of sweet love making, driving Will crazy. Then, with a particularly smug grin, Hannibal snapped his hips and thrust harder, offering Will the feeling of being split in half.

“More.”

Another thrust. And another. The following one even faster. The next one faster still.

It became a frantic movement of limbs in no time.

“Again!”

Hannibal kissed Will, trying to have a taste of the remaining blood on Will’s lips.

“Hannibal.”

The name was uttered so gently, in all this frenzy, that Hannibal’s heart melted. So rarely had he heard Will say his name. And in a moment like that… It simply didn’t get better than that. Hannibal pushed the hair out of Will’s forehead and kissed the sweaty skin there. It was such a contradictory gesture to what was happening just inches below.

Hannibal kept pounding into Will and, most of the times, hitting the man’s prostate. The bliss was in the air – it had a salty scent and taste, ringing in the men’s ears loudly. The moaning and groaning continued, its level reflecting the pleasure felt by both men. Soon enough, Will’s tongue got stuck in his mouth and he could not articulate any thought that would make sense. Neither could Hannibal anymore.

There was only a single strained grunt coming from both men and, suddenly, the sea became calm. The lightnings stopped. The storm appeared to be under control again.

Hannibal laid down his head on Will’s chest and let the man stroke his hair. They both thought about how it had been a while since they felt so peaceful. Then, they drifted off.


	5. WHITE

“We can’t,” Will said, convinced that Hannibal had been joking. It must have been just another one of his suggestions which Will took for granted. And which later frequently turned out to be the perfect solutions and exactly what had to be executed.

“Of course we can.”

Hannibal sipped on his coffee and looked ahead into the vast space around the house. _Their_ house.

The morning was beautiful. It was chilly, the winter clearly detectable in the air, but the sun was successfully trying to get through the gray clouds. Will was holding his own mug with both hands in order to make them warm.

“I don’t want to be wed to you under any false alias,” he said after a moment. It meant that he had considered Hannibal’s offer. Thoroughly, no less.

The words made Hannibal want to chuckle but he decided he’d stiffen a laugh. Still, he was that close to quoting _Romeo and Juliet_.

“Besides, Lithuania hasn’t made it legal for people of the same sex to marry,” Will continued. Another proof that he had read on the issue and took it more seriously than he let Hannibal believe.

“I believe there are two solutions to our marital problem.”

Hannibal’s words made no one apart from him want to laugh. Will only looked at him with feigned disapproval and disappointment. And just a hint of interest.

“You’re right. Any ceremony would have to take place abroad. Which could be easily arranged,” Hannibal assured.

“We either use our real names and _hope_ no one really pays attention _or_ we marry and get caught while doing so,” Will announced the two options half-smug and half-terrified. Neither of the men were ready and willing to be confined to a prison cell again and talking about the possible future out loud felt wrong. Were they doomed?

“Using a fake name doesn't mean I'm marrying someone else,” Hannibal remarked. He seemed to have set his heart on going through with that. “I’d be still marrying _you_.”

“I know.” There was a moment of silence as Will mulled over his life. All his choices and unpredictable circumstances led him to that moment –  the chill morning when he could again decide about the rest of his days. “Perhaps...we could simply buy two rings. You could bake a cake and we could spend a wonderful evening in the garden? We’d be doing this for us and no one else.”

Hannibal stared at Will. There was awe and hope and fear in their eyes. Will was right – they wouldn’t marry for anyone but themselves. And they were happy with the things as they were.

“I'd love that.”

Will smiled shyly at the thought that in that moment they were two people in love, hopelessly trying not to sound as if they were twenty years younger and failing. They simply had to go through that phase. And then, it would all return to normal: chopping wood, shopping, talking by the fire, having dinners. Will imagined that, occasionally, murder had to be involved. And he couldn’t help nudging Hannibal whenever a rude shop assistant or waiter came along.

“Kiss me,” Will asked.

Hannibal put down the mug he was holding and looked at Will adoringly. There were plenty of moments like that ahead of them and Hannibal already cherished them all.

“Will…William…”

Hannibal stroked Will’s hair. Unpleasant memories rushed in immediately. Will narrowed his eyes. No one had called him that for a very long time. He was always just ‘Will.’ The use of the full name was a sign of foul play.

With one palm against Will’s cheek, Hannibal fumbled in his pocket. He opened his other palm to present Will with two gold rings.

“Will, do you take me to be your partner – in life and in crime – until death do us part…again?”

Will snorted, then nodded with a sigh.

“Yes.”

Hannibal pushed the ring onto Will’s finger and kissed it. Then, he kissed the palm and the wrist.

“Hannibal,” Will took the other ring from Hannibal’s open palm, “do you-”

“Yes. I do.”

The words rang in their ears like the damning confession that it was. Hannibal was fully devoted to Will, who put the ring on Hannibal’s finger and held his hand for a moment. It was not the first time they were wearing wedding rings, either fake or real, but this time it felt final.

“Remember that Freddie Lounds’ article?” Hannibal asked, his expression solemn.

“Which one?” Will was still overwhelmed by what had just happened and gaped at their hands. Then, he realised what Hannibal meant and where he was going with his question. “Oh, no.”

“Now we are,” Hannibal prompted.

“Murder Husbands.”

They erupted in laughter and kissed until the cold air forced them to get back inside the house.


End file.
